Homeward Bound
by unatractivecheeseblock
Summary: Being cast out of your home isn't easy. Zuko knows this better than anyone. Unrelated drabbles about Zuko.
1. Chapter 1

The first week of Zuko's banishment was the worst. The scar that marred his face served as a throbbing reminder of his stupidity, his single act of defiance. He wasn't sure which hurt more, the actual wound or the shame and regret that came with it. He longed for his mother's soothing touch more than ever at that time. He wanted her there, to hold him and whisper soft, calming words into his ear. She never appeared, and that too felt like a betrayal.

The second week was almost as bad. The pain of his scar had faded a bit, but the heart-ache had not. All the emotions inside him, the shame, regret, sadness, and pure hurt, morphed into anger. And that anger grew.

The third week was worse. That anger grew and grew until he broke. He raged and screamed and broke things. He slammed his small fists against his walls and yelled until his throat hurt. Then he sank to the floor and sobbed. He wept bitterly for the loss of everything familiar, and for the knowledge that he would never get it back unless he found some being that hadn't been seen for a hundred years.

The fourth week he decided that he would find the Avatar. He would find him and be able to come home. And maybe, just maybe, his father would smile and say he was proud. Weeks turned into months. Months turned to years. Three years of searching for the Avatar when he received word of him being in the Southern Water tribe. For the first time since his banishment, Zuko smiled. Suddenly home didn't seem so far away.


	2. Chapter 2

The metallic scent of blood filled Zuko's nostrils, sending shivers of excitement down his spine. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he fought, cleanly slicing through bone and flesh like a knife through butter. The exiled price smiled because this, this is what he lived for. He stabbed his swords into one man's lungs and savored the fear in his eyes, the way he let out a choked scream.

The rush of power he got when he made a kill went unmatched. It was better than anything Zuko knew of. He had control over people's lives when he fought. Their lives were in his hands to do with as he saw fit. If he wanted them to die, then there was nothing stopping him other than that little voice in the back of his head that told him that killing was wrong.

Of course, he never listened to that traitorous voice. How could something that felt so good, so freeing, possibly be wrong? So Zuko continued to kill.

It's not like he killed innocent people. He only destroyed the people who deserved it. The people that the world would be better off without. He was making the world safer. He did more than the spirits who watched as people were raped, beaten, and abused. And that made him almost like a god.

Sometimes, he would see his mother in his dreams. She would look at him, never like she was proud or happy. The look she wore was of disappointment. She would look at him and ask him why he had changed into someone so cruel. She would ask what happened to her son that fed turtle ducks and begged to be read to. He would tell her that that son was long gone, that he had been gone since she left.

When he woke up, there would be tears in his eyes and he would push down the pain that had never stopped growing. It was only in those moments that he wished more than ever to be that innocent boy. But that boy had died long ago, and he would never return.


	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes, Zuko thought of Jet.

He thought about his smirk and that stupid wheat stalk that was always in his mouth. He admired the way Jet seemed so cocky and sure of himself at all times when really, he was just a hurt kid in a teenaged body. Zuko knew that he would never be able to maintain the almost unbreakable façade of confidence that Jet seemed to exude with that signature smirk of his.

He thought about how the other teen was so damn persistent. Always bothering Zuko and trying to reveal him as a fire bender. He saw things through to the end, no matter what. It made him a good leader and an even better warrior.

He thought about how on the rare occasions that they had sex, Jet would treat Zuko like a god. How he would kiss every scar on his body with such reverence that it was overwhelming in the best of ways. If Zuko closed his eyes, he could still feel the other teen's lips mouthing praises and encouragements into his neck. When Jet touched him so intimately, he felt loved.

But most of all, Zuko thought about those three words that Jet whispered late one night when he thought Zuko was sleeping. How Jet held him a little tighter said that he loved him. Those words were uttered so quietly and so full of emotion that Zuko knew them to be true.

He wanted so desperately for things to be different. He wanted to be held and kissed and _loved_ by Jet. But he was a fire-bender, a member of the nation that Jet hated most. Zuko wondered what would have happened had they met under different circumstances. Maybe he would have been able to say those words back. But wondering wouldn't bring Jet back. Nevertheless, Zuko would close his eyes, picture Jet's face, and dream of what could have been.

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Please review and tell me what Zuko pairing you want next.


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